John-Ward Leighton

RESTLESS

Feckless, useless
devoid of goodness
the fears of this and that
are out of the hat.
I console myself
with fairy tales
from the past
and dream in my solitary room.
Forever alone, this social animal
is drowning in the gathering gloom.
Phone calls from outside
and on the radio beam
tell me things are about as
bad as they seem.
My muse has returned
in sackcloth and ash
her tear stained face
foretells a future
of our civilization’s crash.
High winds, high seas,
melting icecaps,
disappearing species,
starving children,
and idiots driving SUVs.
Warnings, disasters,
inter-spaced with
the fear of stained underwear
and some narcissistic dip-shit
worried by the color of their hair.
I turn off my bogus outlet
to the world outside
and wonder what sort of
corruption all these lies hide.
Is it as bad as they say?
How much can we trust
the people trying to sell us
tooth paste, bullshit and rust?
There is an election tomorrow
and the din is almost deafening
but what the candidates and parties
haven’t said is truly frightening.
The pundits predict
the victory of the fascist
and the disgrace of the corrupt
and act as if there is no choice
but two.
It’s like the choice of arsenic,
or cyanide
but there is no place to run
and no place to hide
so a choice must be made.
That is why I am in distress
feeling feckless, angry, frustrated,
and
restless.